


In the Dark of the Night

by dharma22



Series: The Wardens [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Age Difference, Creampie, Cumshot, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Just Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Squirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma22/pseuds/dharma22
Summary: "I wanted to thank you," she whispered, "I knew no other way to show the extent of my gratitude."Sebille has been lusting for the Warden Commander ever since she first laid eyes on him. After surviving the Joining, she can no longer avoid her desire for him.





	In the Dark of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic needs some background establishment. I've decided to just write the story of the Wardens in fics of their own instead of tackling a multi-chapter beast. If you want some background, go check out my "We Are the One" fic. I've noticed this is a rare pair but I do love Duncan/Female Warden. Thought I might satisfy the one or two people who actually like this ship. Otherwise, enjoy!

Sebille stood before Duncan’s tent, her body still, save for the occasional gust of chilly wind rolling through and causing her to sway. Stillness of the body did not translate to stillness of the mind. Hers raced. Bounced from one thought to the next with the speed of lightning. If one were to hone their attention to a razor sharp edge, they would likely hear her thoughts rattling around inside her skull. Thoughts of every variety danced through her head, beginning with so much promise and ending in resounding disappointment. She subconsciously ran her thumb over her knuckles -- a habit Tamlen had shown her. He insisted that the feel of bone beneath smooth, stretched skin was enough to ground him when his thoughts wandered too far. It rarely worked but she could not give up on the attempt.

She wanted to go in, wanted to push past the tent flap and enter his dwellings. She wouldn’t be here if she had no desire to do so. But there was too much holding her back, too many worries and too many paths this could all go. Far too many possibilities were too terrifying to consider and that’s what held her back. Held the strong and fearless Sebille of clan Mahariel back from what she desired most in this moment. 

Time seemed to slow and warp as she stood there, so she couldn’t be certain of how long she’d stood there, worrying her lip and stroking her knuckles, looking a fool. Countless people of varying importance had stalked by her, gave her strange looks and whispered to their companions about the strange she-elf frozen before a noble Grey Warden’s tent. Eventually, perhaps when she looked back on this moment, she would cringe and blossom into a bright red color. But now she did not care. The rest of the world was practically muted from existence. All she could see was the small tent before her with the flicker of a flame just beyond the flaps. All she could hear was the hammering of her heart in her chest. All she could smell was the burlap of the tent. 

A time would come when she would be horrified at the foolish, scarred little girl she’d briefly become. Only an hour or so before, she’d undergone an event that terrified her far more than simple nerves.

The Joining.

The songs sang of the sacrifice made by the Grey Wardens. She would have never guessed such sacrifices would be so...intense. Or that they would present themselves so early. Syn had speculated that the Joining was much more dangerous than anticipated, citing the employment of intense secrecy and the requirement of darkspawn blood to complete the ritual as her reasoning for such a conclusion. The mage had been correct. The Joining was dangerous. Beyond that. It lingered in territory that existed yet had no name. She decided it wise to listen more closely to what Synathra Amell had to say from now on.

Through a mixture of lyrium, specially prepared herbs, and the blood of tainted creatures, a Grey Warden emerges. In all their glory. To drink such a mixture is to tempt fate in the most deliciously cruel of ways. 

Daveth drank and his death was painful and gruesome. Ser Jory, the next of the recruits to drink, panicked and turned his blade on Duncan. Duncan had no choice but to slice through the man. And she was next. Duncan had approached her, both his gloved hands clasping the silver chalice containing the perilous concoction of darkspawn blood. His expression was grim. The fear was unreal. Despite being quite hardened, years of harsh living under her belt, Sebille began to tremble. Tears burned at the back of her throat.

_ I don’t want to die. _

_ You must. _

She squeezed her eyes shut as she recalled Duncan’s expression as he muttered those words. Sadness, tinged with regret. He did not expect her to live. 

If she did not drink, she would die. The Taint was burning through her at that very moment. She could feel it creeping through her veins, sapping into every fiber of her being. How did she prefer to die: slowly overcome by the darkest evil in the land or by way of a quicker means? Neither seemed favorable, both shared great pain. 

Sebille decided to drink.

The most incredible pain shot through her, so intense it was almost orgasmic, and visions of a great dragon reigning over an impressive horde assaulted her until she could no longer stand. Her knees still ached from the impact. But she was not dead. The pain was evidence of that. She had never felt more grateful for such a nauseating, pulsating headache in her life. The other two recruits, Ana and Syn, also made it and for that she was grateful.

She was  _ alive  _ and that’s why she was here. To celebrate the extension of her life. To thank the man who gave it to her. But she couldn’t move an inch due to paralyzing fear. The fear of rejection.

Her skill and experience with men was limited. Of course, she’d flirted and what not. With  _ elves.  _ Humans were an enigma to her. She’d only ever physically been with one person, that person being Tamlen. There was no real attraction there — the entire set-up was purely about need and not want. But Duncan...she was attracted to him in every possible way. Drawn to him, even. She  _ wanted  _ him and she had no idea why. Was it his authority? His power and might? The beard?  _ The earring? _

That mattered little if her feelings were not reciprocated. She had a difficult time unraveling that. She caught his yearning glances, felt his lingering touches, noticed the heightened tenderness in which he spoke with her. But that could mean anything. Duncan could see her as a hopeful recruit he intended to mentor, a human showing the ways of civilized society to a heathen elf of the woods, or worse, as a daughter. 

Finally, she felt her muscles budge, almost as if by some unseen force. She turned away from the tent, hanging her head in shame, and began to walk away.

“Come in, Sebille.”

She froze in place, her eyes widening in horror. She slowly turned her head back, glancing at the tent over her shoulder. Duncan remained in the tent. The sudden urge to vomit nestled deep within her stomach. She breathed deeply through her nostrils and turned back around.

_ Bastard,  _ she thought,  _ Who knows how long I’ve been out amongst the elements, looking like a fool? _

Sebille pushed through the flaps of the tent and entered into his space. For such a small tent, Duncan had made the space feel like a quaint home. His armor sat propped up in a corner, his blades sat neatly beside them, there was a quilt she’d never noticed thrown over his bedroll. By the looks of things, she’d caught him preparing to crawl into that bedroll. She avoided looking at him directly.

“You were standing out there for some time,” Duncan began, crossing his thick arms, “Is there something you needed?”

His tone was not unkind. In fact, he seemed almost...concerned. Not what she expected. He should be snappy and confront her for eerily standing outside his tent for what felt like years.

“N-No…” she stammered, gazing at the ground and nervously twisting her hands, “I just…”

“Sebille?” he asked, taking a step towards her. He unwound an arm from its crossed position and sat one of his massive hands on her shoulder. She could  _ feel  _ his eyes drilling into her.

She swallowed thickly. Met his eyes for the first time. Those dark eyes, full of strength and solidness. Sebille could feel herself slipping into them. “The Joining. I wanted to say...I’m not sure.” she said.

Duncan frowned and squeezed her shoulder. “It is difficult to process what transpires at the Joining. I must admit, I did not expect any of you to survive.” he said. He looked away from her and pulled back.

She inhaled deeply. He turned his back to her. 

“As gruesome as it is, the Joining is necessary. It make us what we are. Changes us forever.” he said, shaking his head, “I am sorry you had to find out like this.”

His words entered one ear and exited the other. They did not sink in. For once, her thoughts were not some jumbled mess but a single coherent idea.

_ You must. _

With his back turned, she began to strip. Quietly undid the buckle fastenings of her armor, removed the confining leather from her chest, and deposited everything in a neat pile at her feet until she stood bare. Even her undergarments had been disposed of. 

When he turned back around, perfectly unaware of the sight that awaited him, Sebille took in a sharp inhale. 

Duncan’s eyes went wide. She could practically see his adam’s apple jump and fall back to earth as he swallowed. The look in his eyes was difficult to decode. The hopeful eagerness inside her wanted to place that look as one full of desire. The gloomy dreadful part wanted to label it as fear. 

“S-Sebille?” he stammered, “What is th-”

“I wanted to thank you,” she whispered, “I knew no other way to show the extent of my gratitude.”

His mouth opened and closed in quick succession multiple times. He had something to say and then he didn’t. But he need not say anything, for his silence was enough.

Sebille should’ve known better. He was her  _ superior,  _ he was  _ human,  _ he was  _ older.  _ She had no right to undress before him, expose herself to him, and expect anything back from him. The urge to vomit returned but she suppressed it, instead turning her focus to gathering her clothes. 

_ Foolish girl! _

“I’m sorry,” she said, hastily gathering up her discarded armor. 

Duncan stopped her. His broad hand snatched up her arm, his eyes locked onto hers. They commanded her to stay. Deep within them, she could see a glimmer of pain. He wanted this but he hated that he did. 

“This is wildly inappropriate,” he spit through clenched teeth. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. His grip on her arm tightened. “But...I want you so.”

In a matter of seconds, Duncan had swept her lips up in a passionate kiss, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip and eliciting a whine from her. He needed no permission to cram his tongue down her throat. Duncan simply did it.

And she melted into him. Went lax in his arms to the point where he was the one solely responsible for holding her up. He managed. Those thick arms, chorded with strong capable muscles, were built to handle her weight. 

Sebille tugged blindly at his shirt, being suddenly aware of her intense desire for him to be rid of it. Duncan pulled back from the kiss and quickly removed the article, throwing it aside like a useless tool. Then he was back in her mouth, roughly trying out the landscape of her mouth. Heat pooled in her core, her own slick beginning to coat her thighs. Up against her belly, she felt the beginnings of Duncan’s erection.

Just from that delicate brush, she could tell his cock was meaty. Larger than what she was used to. 

“Take your trousers off,” she commanded breathlessly, “I want to see you.”

His smirk was cocky and handsome. “Eager, aren’t we?” he teased. Duncan did as she requested, his movements lacking urgency. He was teasing her but little did he realize this wasn’t as much a tease as it was  _ agony.  _ She whimpered.

“Please, Duncan.” she begged and a chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

Finally, a substantial amount of his cock was bared to the world, the sight of it causing her mouth to water. She instantly fell to her knees before him, disregarding how her knees would be covered in dirt. Before he was fully free of the trousers, she had taken the tip into her mouth, her tongue sketching broad circles around it. The taste of salt burst across her tongue. She could not tell if the taste was of precum or sweat. 

He groaned and dove his fingers into her hair, gripping the dark locks firmly. “Most eager,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

Sebille took more of him into her mouth. At first, she thought she could handle him. Not in his entirety but certainly a healthy portion. She considered herself skilled on that front. But he was much larger than Tamlen, both in length and in girth. No disrespect to Tamlen but his manhood wasn’t much of an endowment in comparison to Duncan. Worry began to loom that perhaps he wouldn’t fit. If he did, it would hurt more than Tamlen. 

But she thought back to the pain of the Joining and calmed herself. Nothing could be worse than that. 

She gave a few quick pumps before letting his cock pop free of her mouth, the effort sucking all the air from her lungs. As she panted frantically, Duncan pulled her up from her knees. The ease with which he heaved her weight astonished her. Of course, she was light, as were most elves, but not so light as to be picked up with the effort one would exert when picking a flower. She adored it. He carried her over to his bedroll and planted her atop the colorful quilt. He knelt between her legs, his weathered hands forcing them apart.

“You must be quiet,” he informed her, splitting her soaking lips apart with his fingers. The sound the action made...she trembled in anticipation. 

She nodded eagerly. “Yes,” she breathed.

Duncan smirked and ducked his head between her legs. He left her questioning the act for a brief moment before his tongue was on her most sensitive part. She gave a harsh gasp, Duncan’s hand instinctively snapping up from the place between her thighs to seal over her mouth. This did not stop his onslaught. His tongue slithered up through her slick, bottom to top, and came to rest neatly at her clit. 

Tamlen had never indulged her like this. While she extracted what she wanted from him, made sure she herself never parted unsatisfied, Tamlen’s focus was rarely on her pleasure. He was too absorbed in his own bubble to properly attend to her needs. This new act excited her. In fact, she’d never even considered an oral act being performed on  _ her  _ at all. Up until now, she’d been under the impression the mouth could only service a cock. She was foolish. 

She groaned lightly into his hand, causing him to tighten his grip. He drew his eyes up to meet hers, their glare warning her to keep quiet. So she did. And he continued. His tongue worked her clit beautifully, lulling her closer to her peak but at a pace that wasn’t too hurried. It was just perfect. She cherished any chance to test her endurance. 

At some point, Duncan’s tongue wandered from her clit and delved shallowly into her cunt, the sensation eliciting the faintest of moans. Duncan approved of the volume, for his eyes carried in them a sense of pride. 

His tongue gave a few light thrusts, the slight intrusion causing her nerves to purr in appeasement. She dared say such a sensation was more appealing than penetration with his cock. But she was too excited and eager to bring his manhood into her pulsating heat to deny him the chance.

Her orgasm startled her. It was most unexpected but savored nonetheless, almost to an unhealthy degree. Her hips bucked with surprising restraint, her hands holding Duncan’s head in place as she rode out the best of her high. When she calmed down, her cunt spasming pathetically, she realized she had, miraculously, not made a sound. 

Duncan kissed his way up her trunk, pressing his lips all too lightly to her bare flesh until he reached her lips. The crush of his wet lips against hers was desperate. Her taste lingered on those lips, the flavor one she did not dislike. But it was gone too soon for her to make a definitive decision on. Duncan pulled back and focused his attention on aligning his cock with her entrance. His cock was drawn through her lips, brushing up against her sensitive clit and ripping from her a moan. 

“Silence, my sweet.” he huffed and she bit her lip.

He fiddled with her entrance for a bit with his fingers, properly preparing her for what was to come. Duncan had managed three fingers before he was comprehensively satisfied. 

“Do you want it?” he asked, retrieving his fingers from her hot cunt. She nodded, too flustered to conjure up words. He offered her a small, hardly visible smile.

The press of his hips was rough, his entire cock being forcefully crammed inside her with a single thrust. If Sebille were not so consumed by adjusting to his size, she would be impressed. 

She threw her head back, her mouth falling open in a silent moan. It took all the will harbored inside her to not cry out. While Duncan had stretched her with fingers, she found her body still delightfully unprepared. She wondered what constituted  _ being  _ prepared for a cock like his. 

Thankfully, Duncan granted her the time to adjust to his girth, for his hips were still. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he was just as frazzled as her. She decided his lack of movement was not for her sake but his own. 

“ _ Maker, _ ” he breathed, inhaling deeply through his nose. 

She gave a tentative buck of her hips, testing where he was at in the process of acclimating to her tightness. Much to her surprise, that simple movement drew his cock further in. Such a feat should’ve been impossible. 

Duncan hissed at her, his lips curling back to bare his teeth to her. It only made her want more. So she offered yet another buck of her hips to entice him to  _ move.  _ This time, he growled at her.

“Insolent girl,” he spat, ducking his head down to snatch up her lips once more.

_ Finally,  _ by the grace of all the gods, he began to move. HIs thrusts weren’t shallow or shy, but deep and merciless. Sebille felt a nagging at the back of her mind, one that kept whispering horrible things to her in the sweetest of tones.  _ Hateful  _ was how she would describe it. He fucked her like he hated her. 

She would be lying if she said it didn’t arouse her. Rationale directed that Duncan hated that he had desired a recruit so strongly, that he hated how quickly he gave into that desire. Somewhere deep inside her, she decided she hated how she desired him too. But there was no use indulging shame now. They were both quite literally too deep in this madness to stop it. 

Duncan retrieved his tongue from her mouth. Her lips felt bruised by the force of his kisses but she did not care. All she cared about was the feel of him inside her pulsating heat. Her cunt rippled instinctively as he hit a particular spot, the faintest of whimpers escaping from her. 

“Did you like that spot?” he whispered, deliberately angling his hips so as to hit that spot again. She gasped, her arms winding themselves around his neck like a snake trying to squeeze life from its prey. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, trying desperately to hide her flushed face from him. The spot was delicious but was ultimately too sensitive to prod too frequently. 

But the damage had been done. Duncan aimed to exploit her weakness until her body went numb with overstimulation. The head of his cock kept ramming into that sweetest of spots and soon enough, Sebille had been reduced to a teary-eyed, incoherent mess. Furtiveness was abandoned and her cries were beyond audible. It would be the work of the gods if no one knew what was unfolding in the Warden Commander’s tent. 

Duncan clearly did away with the secretiveness of their joining as well, for he openly revelled in her cries if his smirk or the pick up in the speed of his hips was any indication. 

Soon enough, she came and came violently. The world darkened for a brief moment, her vision going fuzzy and her head becoming light. When she came to, she was distinctly aware of the stickiness coating both hers and Duncan’s thighs. If her cheeks were not already awash with red, they would be now.

“Maker’s breath,” Duncan said. His hips stalled for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable. Her hand came up to cup his face, the hairs of his beard tickling her palm. She meant to say something, perhaps apologize for making a mess or screaming her lungs out, but Duncan’s rapid pace started up again. She thought he was merciless before. She hadn’t the faintest idea as to what merciless truly meant. 

Now, his pace was almost frantic. She had been taken care of and now it was his turn. She was completely breathless, his thrusts taking away her breath entirely. She couldn’t even make a sound. Her mouth hung open, neither taking in air or pushing it out. Her entire world was comprised of the feel of his skin against hers, his cock inside her, his arms around her. 

Change came abruptly. Seemingly out of nowhere, Duncan reclaimed his cock from her heat, the act feeling more akin to being gutted, and flipped her over to her hands and knees. Reentry was just as abrupt as the change. The press of his cock back into her slick, sore cunt was mind-numbingly delicious. She cried out weakly. 

Once he was properly situated, he started back up his savage pace. One hand grabbed a handful of her umber locks and pulled roughly, baring the column of her throat. With the other hand, he clasped her throat tightly, heavily restricting her intake of air. His grip was just loose enough to allow her room to breathe, however slightly. 

“You enjoy me fucking you like this?” he growled in her ear. She could only whimper. From this angle, Duncan could reach depths he couldn’t dream of before and she felt it. Every inch of him was crammed deep into her cunt.

Her head grew light and she clawed at the hand around her throat. Thankfully, he released her and airflow returned to normal. She gasped, her lungs filling with precious air. They had been screaming just seconds prior. 

When she finally regained use of her voice, her body adjusting appropriately to the air, she used it to an extent she wouldn’t normally dream of.

“You like fucking my pussy,” she said, pausing to moan. Her words felt too...simple. Boring even. So she aimed to add a little flair. 

“You like fucking my tiny  _ elven  _ pussy, don’t you, old man?” she clarified.

That was it. Her words tugged at a string and Duncan unraveled completely. With one harsh final thrust, he spilled his hot seed into her cunt, the stream seemingly never-ending. When he was completely drained, he withdrew with a groan. She felt a string of seed spill out down her thigh. 

They both collapsed into a sweaty panting pile, Duncan’s arms securing her tightly against him. She could feel his breath, cool yet hot, against the bare nape of her neck. Sebille closed her eyes. This sensation of being wound up in his arms, full and content, was quickly overwhelming her. 

After a time, when their breathing had calmed and grown regulated, she turned to face him. His eyes were shut but he was not asleep, that much she could tell. Her hand came to rest upon his cheek. She felt tiny compared to his bulk. 

“What now?” she whispered.

Duncan exhaled and opened his eyes slowly. “I’ll admit, I haven’t thought about it. I was so focused on suppressing my desire for you that I never considered what I truly wanted from you.” he said.

She was much like him — drifting aimlessly in this situation. There was no intended direction in her heart besides a physical one. But she was open to allowing this thing, whatever it was, to blossom into something more. 

“We shall see after the battle, if we survive.” he continued. 

Her brow furrowed. “You don’t suspect we will?” she asked.

Duncan rolled onto his back, his arms leaving her. That was of no matter. She curled up into his side despite his lack of contact. 

“I suspect we’re underprepared. Calan does not realize the severity of this battle.” Duncan said wistfully.

Sebille’s thoughts were brought back to Flemeth’s warning.  _ This Blight’s power is much more than they believe.  _ It was difficult to envision the order dedicated solely to fighting the Blight could underestimate the Blight. From everything she’d seen, it wasn’t a lack of belief on the behalf of the Wardens but the people they sought aid from. 

“That witch, in the Wilds, she said this Blight was more powerful than anyone knew.” Sebille said, her voice distant.

Duncan frowned. “I believe that to be true. We are not prepared for this battle and it’ll be the work of the Maker if we live to end this Blight.”

-+-

Morning came and she woke before Duncan. Before she had fallen asleep, she had warned herself that she was a rational woman, one who was often times the voice of reason in Clan Mahariel. She knew she could not stay the night in his tent. The trouble it would brew would be most unpleasant. But Duncan had exhausted her and his arms, warm and encompassing, kept her still. All night. 

She dressed quickly, taking great effort in keeping as quiet as could be. She was a hunter — she knew the importance of silence. It felt as if centuries had passed before she was fully dressed. And with that, she crept out from his tent and into the chilly morning. Thankfully, the camp was still. 

Sebille quickly stalked across the camp, back to her tent. She was so lost in her head that she did not notice neither Ana nor Syn sitting beside a small fire just outside their shared tent.

“Have a pleasant evening?” Syn said, examining the cuff of her sleeve.

Sebille blushed. “Uh...yes. I couldn’t sleep. I was, uh. Um...with the hounds.” she stammered.

“Couldn’t sleep? Neither could we.” Syn continued, looking up from her sleeve. Mirth twinkled in those dark eyes. 

“Honestly, Sebille. We’re not fools. Who did you spend the night with?” Ana whispered.

Syn scoffed. Sebille remained silent and turned a shade of purple. 

“ _ Who?  _ Please, it’s not that much of a mystery. Try Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden.” Syn answered. While she found the situation hilarious, Sebille caught on to the disapproving tone in her voice.

Ana gasped. “Truly?” she exclaimed.

Sebille closed her eyes and wished she were somewhere else. 

“What you do in your free time is entirely up to you. But a superior? A  _ human?  _ Do you not think this... _ coupling _ unwise?” Syn said.

Oddly enough, Sebille took offense to this. Her perception was that the taciturn mage was passing judgment. “It is none of your business,” she spat. Her anger was mounting.

“But it is. He is my superior as well and  _ you  _ are my sister-in-arms. Besides, you think I’m being judging you, no? I’m simply expressing concern.” Syn said calmly.

“We don’t know Duncan,” Ana added, “His motives are lost to us. I think what Syn is  _ trying  _ to say is...be careful.” 

Sebille calmed a fraction. Outsiders, despite their position, occasionally had the best viewpoints. One not muddied by involvement or feelings. But they had only half the story and the story was one Sebille wasn’t certain even  _ she  _ knew. She sighed.

“You’re right. Forgive me.” she muttered, massaging her temples. Their coupling was the product of rashness from both parties. Neither had thought any of it through to any extent that favored conduciveness. She sighed as she recalled their night of passion, scolded herself for how her cunt clenched at the thought of him. 

Ana patted the bare spot beside her and Sebille was thankful for her kindness. A question bubbled up in her thoughts.

“Does  _ everyone  _ know?” she muttered.

Ana smirked. “Not likely. We only knew because you didn’t return.” she said.

“Your secret is safe with us. Just pretend the noise kept you up as well.” Syn added.

Sebille sighed in relief. They ate breakfast as usual and chatted amongst themselves for a time. It was pleasant. There was no indication that this morning ritual might be their last. Of course, the battle loomed over them all, but for once, they were not consumed by it and decided to operate free of fear.

When the sky was fully lit by the heavy sun, Alistair strolled over to their campsite and sat himself beside Ana. He looked exhausted.

“Did you hear that ghastly  _ moaning  _ last night?” he yawned, shaking his head, “Absolutely mad.”

Ana and Syn giggled while Sebille tried her best to hide her rosy cheeks from sight.


End file.
